


Suited for Success

by GrayVoice



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Negitoro, Office, Suit Kink, Suits, Yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 11:30:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20242141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrayVoice/pseuds/GrayVoice
Summary: A change in wardrobe can work wonders. That's what Miku believes—and all it takes to convince Luka is one spectacular three-piece suit. But as it turns it, it may be possible for a new business look to work a little too well. Negitoro, yuri.





	Suited for Success

Saying the new suit was just a suggestion from Miku would have been underselling it. Right from the beginning, Luka could tell the new look was a huge hit for her girlfriend. She had come to an abrupt stop in front of the store window, mouth agape, eyes stuck on the sign plastered with jacket-clad models and the words “SUMMER SALE—ON NOW.”

Of course Luka knew better than to try dragging Miku away from the shop. Sure, she could have brought up that they were only out to the mall for new shoes, and nothing more. (The ice cream they'd had didn't count—it'd been so long since they'd shared any strawberry, after all.) She could have pointed out both their closets already had enough outfits for the office. 

But she knew how that conversation would run: with reason going ignored, rebuttals leading to pouting, and Luka being dragged off to whatever Miku had set her sights on.

So, instead, Luka stopped and took in the sign herself. The models were doing a good job of flaunting the suits, she had to admit. Each wore stark black or smooth navy, pairing off the look with heels and a crisp button-ups.

Luka brushed one of Miku's long twin-tails over her shoulder. Not surprisingly, the bit of contact didn't break her concentration.

“Guess their marketing team did an okay job, huh?” Luka teased.

“Hm,” Miku murmured in reply.

“Certainly caught your attention, anyway.”

“Uh-huh.”

Sighing, Luka brought her hand back to Miku's and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“So. I take it you want one?”

“Yeah,” Miku said. “For you.”

Luka's hand slipped a little in surprise.

"For me?”

“What?” Miku finally took her eyes off the sign. “I'm allowed to think about you wearing different stuff, right?”

“I mean, yeah,” Luka said. “I don't know. That's just not what I guessed, from how you were staring.”

Miku giggled. “Half staring. Half imagining.”

“Fine, fine.” Luka shook her head. “Hm. Between the two of us, I always figured you'd be the one to look more natural in a tie.”

“Well, tie or no tie,” Miku said, taking hold of both Luka's hands, “I wanna see you in one of those.”

“In a suit?”

“Yes. In a suit.”

Frowning, Luka glanced down at her current outfit: plain white blouse, navy shorts, running sneakers. The ensemble was about as daring as she liked to go in everyday fashion. And, as the pencil skirts in the laundry hamper could attest to, most workdays saw her in more traditionally feminine business options. It escaped her how so extreme a departure from her usual wardrobe would actually pan out.

Sure—maybe Luka could have told Miku all that.

And maybe she could have tried talking the sun out of rising the next morning.

In the end, Luka knew, it would all amount to the same thing. And, all told, she preferred to get their actual shopping done sometime before the mall closed.

She sighed again. “Okay.”

As it always did, though, the heavy feeling lifted as she saw Miku's eyes light up.

“You mean it?” Miku asked.

“I mean I'll try one on,” Luka said. “I don't _need_ one, remember.”

Giggling again, Miku rose to peck Luka on the cheek, then led her into the store.

“Well, maybe _we_ do,” she said.

* * *

Not five steps into the shop, an attendant was on them like a pouncing, impatient tiger. She motioned around the massive interior of the store and its neatly arranged racks, where mannequins posed to show off businesswear and signs screamed discount percentages.

“Anything in particular we're looking for today? We're going up to half off on career sheaths.”

“Thanks,” Luka said, “but we're actually looking more for—”

“Suits,” Miku cut in. Her tone was serious, but the beaming grin she wore neatly undercut the edge of it.

The attendant took on a renewed smile and led the pair down row after row of skirts, leggings, blouses—pieces that Luka eyed with more certain interest. But, if Miku's still-beaming expression was anything to go by, those weren't what they'd be leaving the store with.

“Remember,” Luka said to her, “we're just in 'look and see' mode, okay?”

Miku gave a playful, almost knowing roll of her eyes. “If you say so.”

Soon enough, they arrived at the suit racks, and the attendant bowed out to let them browse. Luka took a moment to sort through the options—herringbone after solid after checkerboard jacket—but stopped cold as she realized she couldn't ignore the hungry eyes still lingering on her from behind.

She shook her head and stepped away from the rack.

“You want a look through them?”

Miku blinked. “Should I?”

“Well, it's not like _I_ have any experience,” Miku said. She sauntered up to the rack and began riffling through them, filling the store with the clinks of sliding hangers. 

“What, you've never scoped out any suits before?”

The clatter of metal on metal paused. “Uh, no, Luka.”

“Huh.” Luka frowned. “Sorry. With how eager you were, I guess that surprises me.”

“Well, you maybe shouldn't be,” Miku said, giggling.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Miku turned back to the line of suits. The clicks and clangs of the metal resumed.

“Give me a few minutes and you'll see.”

At once, she was shuffling through the suits steadily and quickly, every brush of the hanging coats effortlessly agile. Before long she'd plucked an option from the rack to let hang on her free arm: a solid-hued, executive-looking navy number.

Faster than Luka could count, more suits flew off the rack to a flurry of metal clicks. Soon, Miku's arm held up a whole curtain of jackets and paired pants, their tones a cobbled patchwork of muted, professional colors.

Tilting her head, Luka studied the array warily.

“Uh,” she said, “I think that might be enough.”

Without taking her eyes off the rack, Miku stuck out an impatient finger.

“Hold on. Just one more should do it.”

She slid along hanger after hanger, rapid-fire, until at last she beamed down at one final find. With a quick flourish, she plucked it off its resting spot like a fisher snapping up a prize bass. The suit swayed slightly as Miku proudly held it in the air. Sleek, subtle pinstripes ran down its black fabric, lending a smart trace of detail to its classic design.

Miku hurried down the store's aisle, the patchwork curtain fluttering on her arm as she went. Even as Luka frowned at the collection, her girlfriend beamed with a grin that stretched almost up to her teal twin-tails.

“That should do it,” she said. “I had to guess a little on the sizes, though. You'll probably want to focus on the fit first.”

She extended her arm out to Luka, who took the hangers slowly. Now that Luka held the whole range of them, she almost groaned—there had to be at least seven hangers in her hand.

And, if Miku's still-hungry gaze was anything to go by, she'd have to try on every last one before they could get out of the store.

With another sigh, Luka made her way over to the dressing rooms, Miku not three steps behind her. On the trip over, she picked out a simple white button-up to pair with Luka's assembly.

“No promises, remember?” Luka said before stepping past the door. “Even if any of these fit, it doesn't mean I'll keep it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Miku said with a dismissive wave.

Luka shook her head as she went into the booth. One of these days, she was really going to have to work out just what her girlfriend saw in modern fashion.

When she walked back out, Luka's blouse and shorts were off, replaced by the navy suit. It hung loose over her, the pants especially; the legs draped so low that their cuffs covered her sneakers nearly to the heel. Still, at least the waist hugged her comfortably above the hips. And even if the arms felt loose, there was something about the firm fit in the shoulders that made her feel more confident. Not to mention, from what she'd seen in the dressing room mirror, she definitely appreciated the way the deep blue of the fabric complemented the aqua of her eyes.

She strode up to Miku, trying to ignore the breezy sway of the pant-cuffs, and struck an exaggerated pose—one hand clasped on her hip, the other behind her head.

“What do you think?” Luka asked. “CEO quality, isn't it?”

Miku laughed. “I think a _real_ CEO would probably get her pants hemmed.”

“Probably,” Luka said. She held an arm out, examining the sleeve. “I don't think it's a bad look, though.”

“No!” Miku cried out, a sudden urgency in her voice. “It's... well, it's an _amazing_ look, Luka.”

“You think so?” Luka shifted over to the other sleeve, then to the jacket's lapels. She had to admit, there was a distinct professional edge to the design that was already growing on her.

“I know so! It's cool, and confident, and—well, it just fits you.” The excitement in Miku's voice trickled off. “But, maybe go for one that, uh, fits a bit more tightly.”

Luka raised an eyebrow. “So, _that's_ your angle here?”

“Not like that, you perv,” Miku said. “Just, you know, a size that doesn't drape so much.”

With a nod, Luka stepped back into the dressing room. When she returned, she sported a beige ensemble, its leg-cuffs sitting a couple inches above her ankles and its jacket a hard squeeze around her chest.

It still drew a heated stare from Miku. But the excitement didn't last. Clearly, the fit was too tight—and, besides, the pale, creamy hue made Luka look like a B-list pop singer.

So she walked out in a charcoal suit the next time.

And then a blue check piece.

Then a gray pin-dot ensemble.

They all fared decently with Miku, sure. Each time the fit certainly got better; Luka noticed the waist grow more naturally snug as she moved through the options, and sleeves start to hang nearer and nearer her wrists.

But, there hadn't been a real spark to any of them. Nothing like the initial rush of that first, ill-fitting navy suit. There was a mundanity to how the colors and patterns sat on her, and the indifference she felt looking them over in the mirror would always match the dissatisfaction in Miku's shrugs or disinterested nods.

In the dressing room again, she turned to the last option: the black pinstripe suit, which she now found even came with a vest. Despite the conservative design, Luka saw something especially fascinating in this one. Something both professionally modern and charmingly vintage. Caressing the jacket with the back of her hand, she was pleased to find its fabric was soft to the touch, with subtle indentations along the stripes themselves.

Before long, it was on her. She stepped out the dressing room door with the pant-cuffs riding barely past her socks, and the jacket granting only a peak at the ends of the button-up's sleeves. The vest, meanwhile, hugged her chest just tightly enough to accentuate it without crossing the line to outright discomfort. It was a stellar fit, if she did say so—far better than she had hoped for, from the way Miku's options had ran. Not only that, Luka liked the way the color contrasted with her pink hair, and how the pinstripes made her look a little taller.

From the moment Luka walked out of the dressing room, it was clear Miku held a similar opinion. Her eyes widened, and a bright splash of color rushed into her cheeks. She wasn't smiling, no; but her quivering lips, her mouth held slightly open, spoke to something far deeper than simple joy.

That, and the way Miku's eyes seemed to be unbuttoning the suit already.

Playing into it, Luka again struck an exaggerated pose—this time stretching a leg out while one hand grabbed her label, the other stuck comfortably in a pocket.

“So pleased you could meet with me today, Ms. Hatsune,” Luka said, her tone droll. “Can I offer you a drink before we start our negotiations?”

The joke managed to break Miku out of her frozen astonishment.

“You're such a dork,” she said between giggles.

“Sure,” Luka replied. She took hold of the other lapel, puffed them out, then dropped her hands to her waist. “But at least I'm a dork who figured out her fit.”

“Yeah.” Miku was back to staring. It was if the mere mention of the word “fit” left her very nearly drooling over the outfit. Her eyes climbed up to the slim wrap of the waist, finally settling on the vest—and, no doubt in Luka's mind, the way it accentuated her bustline. 

“It's, uh,” Miku said, “definitely the fit for you.”

Again Luka stuck her hands in the pockets. Sticking her tongue out, thrust her chest forward a little.

“What a find, huh?” she said.

Suddenly, she shivered at a touch on her arm. Then at a hand rubbing along her waist. Somehow Miku had managed to rush up and wrap herself around Luka too fast for her to immediately feel it.

But the rough, frantic way Miku was rubbing on Luka's hips—that part she _definitely_ felt right away.

A rush of heat flared up through her spine, ending with waves of fire across her cheeks. Instinctively, she put an arm around Miku's shoulder, but looked around the shop for any prying eyes. None around, luckily. Still, she gave her girlfriend a subtle, halting squeeze.

“Flattered,” she said, “but, we are out in the open, Miku.”

“We wouldn't be if we went in a dressing room,” Miku murmured, her hand not letting up its motions—even creeping up the inside of the jacket, now, Luka noticed.

She slapped Miku's hand away before it climbed too far.

“Maybe, but I'm not in the mood for a lifetime ban from this store,” Luka said. In her head, she brushed away the wild bits of imagination her girlfriend's contact had conjured. “Might want to buy shirts from them later on, you know.”

Even with Luka's discouragement, Miku held tight to her.

“We can just buy shirts online, or whatever,” she said, just as softly as before.

The obvious need radiated from her fingertips with a heat Luka could feel even through the jacket. Mercilessly, the fantasies Luka had just brushed away roared back in full: thoughts of Miku yanking her tie, of undoing her buttons, of slipping the jacket off her shoulders...

Shaking her head, she stopped herself there. Bad setting, she reminded herself. But she didn't sweep the thoughts away this time. Instead, she gathered them up instead, finding some room to stow them away. 

No, she decided: this outfit had pockets enough to stash plenty of stray, less-than-wholesome thoughts.

Except, again, she looked around the open store. Not ones to indulge in here, though.

Gently, she pushed Miku off from herself, and looked down at her with a grin that she could only hope conveyed a fraction of how she was burning up inside.

“How about we just go home with this now,” she said, “and let the fun parts come later?"

With a visible swallow, Miku gave her own calmed, collected smile.

“You mean, somewhere that we won't have to keep it down?”

“Or at least won't have to explain anything to a mall cop, yeah.”

It seemed to cool Miku down enough to cling a little less tightly. She hung on Luka's arm instead as the two made their way back to the shop attendant, explaining that, yes, this suit would do quite nicely, all while the employee exclaimed how perfect it looked on Luka.

Honestly, it surprised Luka to hear herself ask for the suit to be bought and wrapped up. After all, they didn't need it. It wasn't even something to replace a regular part of her wardrobe. 

But she couldn't shake the feeling of wearing it, the confidence it inspired in her. More than that, she couldn't forget the awestruck look Miku had given her as she made her grand entrance wearing the vest, jacket, and pants combination. There was undisguised lust on Miku's face, even more intense than the expression she wore on their first date all those years ago.

So she happily took the suit home, along with three extra button-down dress shirts and a couple ties—happy, even though they'd totally forgotten those shoes Miku was supposed to buy for herself.

Because, damn it, there really was something sharp about that three-piece ensemble, even when it was hanging in Luka's half of the apartment's closet.

* * *

Luka woke up early the next day, Miku still dozing softly beside her. Call it anticipation, maybe. Cheesy as it seemed, she'd felt a kind of exuberance the evening before in thinking of the suit, actually putting it on.

It didn't help that the mood from the shop had died down by the time they got home. In the end, they'd just gone on to a normal evening of dinner, TV, and an early bedtime. There was comfort in that, maybe—but not excitement. Not that modern edge of change. And, temporary or not, a bit of a shake-up was exactly what the purchase had triggered in Luka.

Carefully lifting only her side of the sheets, she climbed out of bed and left Miku to an extra half hour of sleep. The suit practically gleamed in the early morning light. Enthralled, Luka couldn't resist its shimmering allure.

Once she put it on, the suit didn't feel like sunshine on Luka's skin, no. But it still looked as sharp as ever as she layered the black fabric over her maroon button-up. With a spring in her step, she walked to the bedroom mirror and firmly knotted on a scarlet tie, following those internet instructions as closely as she could.

It didn't take long before Luka was dressed in the full pinstriped ensemble and out at the coffee table, diving into the morning's bowl of cereal. The sun was still barely gleaming in through their apartment window, and she smiled, thinking about the coming day.

Time passed more quickly than she thought. She was already lapping up the remaining milk by the time Miku had gotten up. Out into the living space she'd trod in her usual business-casual blouse and skirt combo. 

But Miku stopped cold in front of the couch. She stared down the seated Luka with wide eyes, and a gaze that didn't seem content to settle on the tightly buttoned vest this time.

“Huh,” Miku said, a hint of confusion in her voice that another half-hour of sleep probably couldn't have solved. “You're wearing it.”

Luka slurped up what was left of the milk.

“Sure am,” she said.

Miku nodded slowly, and didn't make the expected move to go for her bowl of cereal.

“You're not weirded out by that, are you?” Luka asked.

“I mean, not 'weirded out,' no.”

“What is it? Do I not look okay?”

“No,” Miku cut in, suddenly frantic. “No, Luka, you look great. Just as great as ever.”

The spoon in Luka's hand quivered as she waved it expectantly.

“...Buuut?” she asked.

“Well, uh, 'but' nothing,” Miku said. “I guess I'm just... I dunno, surprised. To see you wear it. Like, so soon.”

“Sorry. Just couldn't resist it.”

For all Miku's initial confusion, a subtle glint in her eyes offered Luka a hint of agreement. But she wasn't left speculating long. In a second, newly tied twin-tails flitted through the air as Miku rushed up to her. Wet, inviting warmth and freshly applied lipstick embraced Luka's own lips. She sank into the kiss with a pleased hum, her spirits newly lifted as Miku pulled away and flashed her a reassuring grin.

“I get it,” she said. “I mean, I couldn't resist _that_.”

Setting her spoon back in the bowl, Luka stood up and returned the favor with a quick peck of her own.

“Come on,” she said with a pat on Miku's shoulder, “if we take much more time, we'll be knee-deep in traffic.”

* * *

One bowl of cereal wolfed down by Miku later, and they were out the door and into their five-year-old Camry. Luka drove—forgetting to ask Miku if she wanted to, she realized a little too late—and settled into a sunny mood as the day opened on surprisingly _non_-congested streets. Had they just got out the door early enough to miss the usual stop-and-go version of the morning commute? Miku, normally so eager to gripe about traffic, didn't have much to offer when Luka asked. In fact, after asking to leave the radio on the classic rock station, she didn't say much at all.

But the quiet didn't make for a tense ride up to the office, especially since the trip went by so quickly. Luka's sunny mood shone just as brightly as she parked, then stepped out with that energy the suit so effortlessly inspired. She smiled as she walked side by side with Miku into the building's lobby and pushed for the elevator. And she felt her spirits soar as she and Miku shared another quick kiss before Luka got off on her floor—the marketing department for her, and Miku riding one more stop up to accounting.

The bland, open-desk design of the floor stretched out before Luka like a sprawling canvas. She strode evenly into the first row of workstations and noticed a nearby huddle peer up at her—no, not just at the chime of the arriving elevator, at _her_. They nodded a quick hello and returned to their shared laptop, but the glance left Luka proudly caressing the lapel of her jacket.

“Luka, good morning!”

She was about at her desk when she caught the greeting from Meiko. Polished and chipper, the brunette sported a blazer and skirt along with her usual smile and upbeat attitude.

“Morning, Meiko,” Luka replied.

The simple cheer shifted, though, as Meiko came closer. She cocked her head to the side, inspecting Luka with plainly appreciative curiosity.

“Well, _that's_ new,” she said.

“Oh, this?” Luka ran a hand down the side of her jacket, fingers trailing along the textured pinstripes smoothly until she arrived at her pants. “I don't know. Thought I might try something different.”

“'Different' is working out great, though,” Meiko said, her grin back at full wattage. “Like, wow. I feel like I should be bringing you my resume.”

Luka laughed. “Hey, Miku gets some credit. She picked it out for me.”

“Sure, but you're the one kicking ass in it.” With a quick wave, Meiko went back on her way down the row of desks. “See you at the 10 o'clock!”

Waving back, Luka settled in at her desk. But as she booted up her laptop, she found the glee bubbling up inside too forceful to ignore. As the computer's start up tune chimed, she whipped out her phone and pulled up Miku's starred text contact.

_Guess what? Meiko REALLY likes the look!_

The message took just a second to send. Except, instead of just stashing the phone away, Luka found herself staring at the screen awhile. Waiting on a reply, she realized—with a small, anxious knot forming in her stomach the longer she stared.

Odd, she thought. She knew full well Miku was going to be busy with morning emails for now. Normally, it wasn't until noon that she ever got any replies. But, as her shoulders tensed and her mouth suddenly dried up, she felt suddenly frozen over the unchanged texting window.

With a shake of her head, Luka shoved her phone into her jacket's inner pocket. The laptop's login screen had finally glowed to life. She typed her info in and set about clearing her own inbox.

And she had just nearly got the phone out of her mind when, not ten minutes later, she felt it buzz in her pocket. Fumbling, she yanked the device back out, taking three tries to unlock it.

_Cool, glad to hear :)_

Luka stared it the screen far longer than she needed. Once more the knot tightened in her stomach—what was with the terse phrasing? Or the oddly quick reply?

Rubbing her forehead, she pocketed the phone. Probably reading too much into it, she decided. She turned her attention instead to the emails, then to a bit of prep for the 10 o'clock meeting.

It wasn't long before she ran out of time. Her coworkers stood up en masse and gathered their laptops to head into the conference room on the floor above. Finally noticing the hour herself, Luka hurried to join them. Again, though, there was that new spring in her step. And again, eyes stuck to her as she smoothed her way into the small crowd of them, with glances keeping up even as they piled into the elevator.

In the conference room, too, Luka scored nods of approval from the new hires Gumi and Ia—plus a repeat thumbs-up from Meiko—even when she wasn't chiming in about the campaign strategy or advertising graphics. Sure, the meeting still passed as slowly as ever. But an air of contentment surrounded her as she kept on hand on her lapel, and the other resting steadily on her laptop.

As the meeting wrapped up and she finally made it out of the conference room, though, a voice stopped Luka right outside the door.

“Yo! Luka!”

Turning toward the greeting, she saw Lily striding up to her, clad in the usual slacks and partly undone dress shirt.

“Fancy seeing you in these parts,” Lily said. “What, they put you in a meeting room up in accounting?”

“Everything on our floor was booked,” Luka explained. She paused, noticing the expectant, almost penetrating leer from her friend. “Ah. The suit, right? Yeah, yeah, it's a new look.”

“A _hot_ new look,” Lily said. In one smooth motion, her fingertips trailed up Luka's sleeve, even daring to run along her vest. “Jeez, lucky for me you're taken already. Otherwise I'd lose every girl in the office to you.”

“Well, at least you say you remember I'm taken,” Luka said. Laughing, she pushed Lily's wandering hand aside. “Anyway, it's not a big thing. Just something I'm trying out, you know?”

“Nah,” Lily said, withdrawing her hand with a wider grin. “See, 'trying out' is hitting up that weird restaurant on the corner. This, though? Luka, this right here is what you call succeeding.”

A rush of warmth flooded Luka's cheeks, and she turned her head away.

“You never fail to show why you're so popular, huh, Lily?” she said with a shy laugh.

But her smile faded as she spotted a familiar pair of teal twin-tails two rows of cubicles away. Miku stood stiffly, clutching a file folder to her chest. The look on her face was ashen, full of obvious displeasure.

“Hey, I just like to tell the truth,” Lily was saying.

Slowly, Luka lifted an arm up and waved over at Miku. Her lips stretched into a stiff smile, and sure enough, she waved back.

But she lingered in place a second longer. Her still-blank stare was attentive, piercing. The folder at her chest quivered slightly, even with how tightly she was plainly gripping it.

At last, she took off. Luka turned back to Lily with an apologetic look.

“Sorry. Figured I should say hello.”

“Hey, I get it. Gotta keep the better half happy.” Slapping Luka on the shoulder, Lily turned and headed down toward her desk. “Well, take care! And stop by my floor a little more often, will ya?”

Luka waved a farewell to her, too. But, walking back to the elevator, the upbeat energy didn't return to her step. She could still feel the slim, comfortable fit of the suit on her even as she made it back to her desk, sure—except she also felt the added weight of a forced smile and an uneasy stare sagging her down.

_Overthinking it_, she told herself as she set her laptop back up. _Not a big deal_. Still, she couldn't keep herself fixed on the inbox and team project boards. Swarms of doubt kept buzzing in her head, and whatever logic she swatted at them with, they just kept flying back stronger.

Accepting defeat, she pulled out her phone again and started on a text.

_Big hit with Lily, too! Listening to you was definitely the right call._

And, sent. 

There. Done. Awkwardness status: averted.

Ignoring the lingering butterflies, she threw herself back at the mess of projects to untangle. Next week's customer email was still missing taglines, the internal memos still needed imagery—not to mention the department still needed a couple copyright follow-ups with legal.

Close to noon, she decided she had to brave the fluttering again; it was almost time to meet Miku for lunch. Forcing down another bout of anxiety, Luka sent a quick follow-up to her still-unanswered previous text, suggesting maybe they could hit up the usual sandwich shop.

It wasn't until after one o'clock that she felt her phone buzz with a reply:

_Can't make lunch. Super happy for you tho :)_

Luka froze. Sure, she wasn't the best at finding hidden meaning in text messages—but this one was so cold she wanted to pull on an overcoat.

She took her meal break on her own, grabbing a salad from the self-serve cafe. But returning to work seemed impossible afterward. The doubts were back in full force, and she didn't feel the slightest bit compelled to shake them off. She just let them wreck shop as she sent email replies and wrote sample copy on autopilot. When she followed her team into the afternoon business update, her feet felt leaden. Even when she touched the knot on her tie, she didn't find that gleeful lift return.

Five o'clock arrived, and she was down in the lobby, waiting on Miku. When she showed up, she met Luka's smile with only the briefest of looks. All her girlfriend had to say about her day was that it was “fine”; all she had to say about Luka's day was a few quiet hums.

So Luka didn't fish for anything more on the ride home. She just took in the classic rock station, trying to let the wailing guitars and constant ad breaks chip away at the silence.

* * *

The apartment door swung shut, and Luka gingerly brushed a finger through Miku's hair.

“Hey,” she said. “Can we talk?”

Halfway through kicking off her flats, Miku glanced up at her. She shrugged and slid the shoes to the back of the closet.

“Sure. I guess.”

Shoulders slouched, Miku took a seat at the couch. The words Luka had rehearsed in the car flashed in her head as she plopped down next to her—all the gentle phrases, the oft-used starters. She breathed slowly and leaned closer to Miku, setting a hand over hers.

At the bit of contact, Miku suddenly jerked her head away. A frown crept over her face, but she kept her hand under Luka's, even if she clenched up.

“I know something's the matter,” Luka said. Against herself, she chuckled. “Something I did, probably.” Her hand squeezed Miku's gently, and she channeled the awkward laugh into a smile. “Can we just talk about it?”

Suddenly, Miku shifted around to face Luka again.

“Luka, it's...” She stopped herself, sighing and shaking her head. “No. It's nothing you did. Not really.”

Luka took another slow breath, steadying herself.

“It's not the suit, is it?”

“No!” Miku said. Again, she cut herself off with a sigh. “Well, okay. Yes. I guess it is. Even though it shouldn't be.”

Something shifted in her eyes, darker, more unsure. Luka made sure not to say anything more. Just to nod—to give some little gesture of going on.

“I don't know,” Miku muttered, exasperation clawing at her tone. “It's dumb. I'm sorry. We can just let it go.”

“Should we, really?”

Under Luka's inquiring gaze, the shadows in Miku's expression seemed to scatter. Still, she was frowning as Luka brought a hand up to her shoulder and gently stroked it.

“It's just, like—it was _my_ fantasy,” Miku said. “My image of you. I saw the store's sign, and I built up this picture of another Luka. And then you walked out in it—” Dejectedly, she waved up and down at the suit. “—and, wow. It was like that picture sprang to life. Right out of my head.”

Her eyes downcast, Luka gently clutched Miku's thigh and gave her shoulder another attentive squeeze. At last, Miku reciprocated with the faintest of smiles.

“So,” Miku said, “I guess when I realized the whole office was going to see that...”

“...it felt like it wasn't _your_ picture anymore,” Luka finished.

Nervously, Miku glanced down at the floor. “Pretty much.”

Frowning, Luka felt the words echo in her head and hit her like a splash of cold water. Of course—that was the spark behind this smoky veil of jealousy: Miku's own idea, taken from her. Let loose on the outside world. In an instant, Luka saw the gloom and frustration of it all. It must have been like having your diary read aloud to the class.

The self-doubt from the thoughts was cut short when a laugh from Miku—short, nervous, but still as lyrical as chimes—echoed through the apartment. Luka looked up to see her suddenly timid and shy, yet with that familiar sunshine daring to shine through her expression. Even nervous, her grin punched straight to the heart.

“Like I said: it's dumb, huh?”

It was all Luka could do to keep herself from pushing herself onto Miku then and there—to kiss her, loosen her hair ties. But she held back. Something in her girlfriend's shy demeanor told her she wanted more than the rawest kind of reassurance.

Smiling gently again, Luka stroked through Miku's hair instead, letting their eyes lock, burn into one another.

“It's just what you felt,” Luka said, her voice low and tender. “There's nothing dumb about that.”

Already she saw doubt flicker in Miku's eyes. But she moved in to quell it; her lips closed in on Miku's, and even as she pulled back away and saw the other woman's lids flicker back open, it was clear the anxiety had scurried away.

And Luka smiled even wider. It was as sure a sign as any that she'd chosen the right path.

Gingerly, she brought Miku's hand over to touch the jacket of the suit. At once the young woman lit up as her palm traced over the fabric. Just like in the store—a light all at once hopeful, expectant, and hungry.

“Although,” Luka said with a chuckle, “in the end, it still is a picture just for you, Miku.”

The anticipation shone just as brightly as Miku blinked. “It is?”

“Of course it is,” Luka replied, smiling. 

The moment had struck. Slowly, smoothly, Luka inched herself closer to Miku, stopping only to let her lips trace a soft, tender kiss on the woman's cheek. And the shiver that coursed through Miku at that was subtle, yet still enough for Luka to feel through the hand resting on her thigh. Following the rhythm of Miku's breathing, she trailed her mouth up to her girlfriend's ear, but pulled away to look deep into her eyes.

“After all,” she murmured, “you're the only one the boss takes home.”

In an instant, in Miku's eyes the hunger—the yearning, the anticipation, all of it—toppled over into something far more ravenous. Her chest heaved with heavier, more urgent gulps of air. Her lips, still glowing bright ruby red, quivered ever so slightly, stopping only as she nibbled them.

The surprise only flashed long enough for Luka to recognize it, though. Just as quickly, Miku was smiling. But not with that sunny grin from before. It was something coy, now, as if trying to mask the ragged excitement of her breath.

“Tell me, though,” Miku said. “should I really be the one who gets taken home?” Her tongue flicked out to lick at her lips before she went back to that sly, mischievous grin. “After all... I've been a pretty bad girl, haven't I?”

The signal couldn't have been sent more clearly. With a grin and fingers brushing across Miku's face, Luka pounced on it.

“Very bad,” she said. “Really quite naughty. You were so shameless, you spied on Lily checking me out, didn't you? What was going through your mind then, I wonder? Probably something indecent, if I know you.” Luka leaned close to Miku's ear, her voice sinking to a sultry whisper. “I'll bet you were imagining her unbuttoning my vest, weren't you? Then my shirt after that.”

Surprise flashed through Miku's widened eyes. But only briefly. Already she was back to the coy smile as she sank into Luka's grip on both her arms.

“That _was_ bad, wasn't it?” she said, giggling.

“Oh, yes, you were a _very_ bad girl,” Luka said. She stood, forcefully pulling Miku up off the couch along with her. She took Miku's hands and pressed them into the soft fabric of the pinstriped vest. “See, I know what you _really_ wanted. You wanted to be the one doing this, not Lily—and right there in the middle of the office, too. Am I right?”

Miku's eager caresses, up and down the vest, growing more and more forceful, were plenty answer enough. They trailed against the stripes, running to the button-up center, and climbed up to the silky, scarlet tie. Again, though, when Miku's got too close to Luka's chest, she slapped the wandering hands away.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Luka said, waving a finger in Miku's face. “Not just yet.” Standing taller, she leaned right over Miku, and stared her down with a wide, hungry grin of her own. “You still need a bit of punishment.”

With a loud smack, her palm hit hard against Miku's ass, lingering a moment to hold tight. A cooing moan escaped Miku's lips—the grunt channeled into a long, pleasured hiss, and she looked up at Luka with a look far more eager than she'd shown in that clothes shop.

“Oh, yes,” she groaned out, “I _do_ need to be punished. So, so badly.”

She nearly yanked Luka along to the bedroom, but stopped partway, allowing the woman in the dark, pinstriped suit to take the lead and motion her onto the mattress.

And as she shut the door and felt the knot of her tie coming undone, Luka felt it safe to say that in the end, the suit had been an excellent investment.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, an enormous thanks goes out to my beta reader and constant source of encouragement, Can't Catch Rabbit. A big thanks as well to IdrewACow, who suggested this prompt for the Negitoro Summer Smash.
> 
> So, to all those wondering why I'm breaking the hiatus: the simple answer is, this premise I wrote off of was too much fun not to indulge in. A slightly more in-depth answer is, as of late, I haven't let myself indulge in something more lighthearted when I write. I'm afraid I can't promise many more updates after this one, but at the very least, I hope you had fun with this piece.


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